"And how, exactly, are you going to pull that off?" Cortana asked, crossing her slender arms over her chest and looking at the Chief in a critical fashion. They had been able to locate a holotank of sorts near the eastern portion of the structure. The room was littered with debris, looking as though it survived a Covenant attack at some point in its history. Deep recesses criss-crossing over the iron door indeed looked like swipes from an Elite's powerful plasma sword. There were no bodies to speak of. Whoever had arrived afterward had cleaned up well.
"You really should have more faith in me." The Chief tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze resting not so much on the AI, but rather, the condition of the panel on which she stood. The holotank was admittedly not in the best of shape. It had been knocked over in whatever battle had occurred here, and even after John had tried to shove it back into its original position the tank continued to tilt at a slight angle. The result gave Cortana's holographic figure a somewhat comical slant.
If the Chief had been the laughing type, of course.
"I'll have more faith in you when it's warranted." Cortana shot back, the symbols scrolling over her body lighting up a hostile red. John paused while reconfiguring his armor specs. The MJOLNIR technology allowed for him to conveniently increase or reduce the thickness of its shield covering his fingers and the bottoms of his feet. He'd increased both settings to maximum before crashing the Pelican into the planet. Now he reset them back down to minimum, allowing himself to handle objects with far better maneuverability. Now he carefully removed his helmet, his weary gaze regarding the AI.
"And when, Cortana, has it not been warranted?" He asked quietly, his eyes dark. Cortana realized her mistake and let her arms fall. Her own eyes softened and her shoulders drooped. The symbols returned to their normal purple-pink hue.
"It has been warranted, Master Chief. Time and time again. I apologize." John didn't answer. Instead, he shot her one more glance before slipping his helmet back on. Cortana had not been acting entirely normal ever since he'd awakened from cryo. He briefly wondered if these breaches of military protocol meant that the AI was descending into rampancy, which inevitably consumed all AIs after their lifespan of roughly seven years. Then again, Cortana had never been one for following the direct rules of protocol. Most of the time, talking to her he felt like he was talking to a civilian.
The Chief erased the wry smile that had eased its way onto his features.
"Good."
Lord Hood strode down the main hallway of the cruiser Life After Death, his black shoes clicking against the hard tile. The ship, the third ship in the brand new Eternity class, was considered to be the most advanced of the fleet. Lord Hood clasped his hands firmly behind his back as he rode the lift to his bridge. He was getting too old to be a part of space battles, anymore. Not that there had been much to fight since the fall of the Covenant. Even putting down the occasional Covenant Loyalist group had slowed considerably. He removed his officer's cap and ran a heavy palm through his thinning white hair.
Emerging from the lift, Lord Hood strode forward onto his bridge. Lt. Janet Rodgers, his navigations officer, stood at immediate attention at his arrival.
"At rest…" Lord Hood nodded to her.
"Sir. We have been cleared to leave Cairo Station. Engine is at 100 and standing by." Hood cleared his throat before answering.
"Good. I want us clear of this station and in Slipspace in twenty minutes."
"Sir, yes Sir." The Fleet Admiral took his place on what the officers enjoyed dubbing the Hot Seat, his eyes landing on the main forward view screen. All that lay ahead of them was a blanket of stars.
"Sir. Permission to speak, Sir?" Lord Hood glanced over his shoulder at his Communications officer, a young Second Lt. by the name of William Lovestone. The man – a boy, really – had only just graduated from the Naval Academy, but had passed with marks nearly unprecedented. The Admiral saw a lot of himself in the young man. Which was why he had requested the boy – his nephew – be transferred to his bridge immediately upon graduation.
Now, as he watched the boy of only twenty-two years greet him with a question and a sharp salute, he hoped that William's foreseen potential would be put to good use here on the Life After Death. Lord Hood returned the salute and gave the Lt. permission to stand at rest.
"Permission granted." William relaxed the salute but kept his posture straight.
"Sir…is it true?"
"Is what true, son?"
"That there is a Spartan on board this ship." The Admiral stood, meeting his nephew's eager gaze. He knew the young man had never seen a Spartan before. To the new recruits, Spartans were stuff of legends. The battles they'd fought and won, the medals they earned and the sacrifices they had made had been the subjects of myths told to enthusiastic recruits down at the Naval Academy. Lord Hood had heard many of the stories himself from his nephew, and surprisingly enough, they were incredibly accurate. It seemed that the stories of the Spartans needed no further embellishment or exaggeration to weave a good tale. The material was all there.
Lord Hood turned from the young Lieutenant and made his way over to his own station. There, he rummaged through a small pile of folders before locating the one he was looking for. He opened it, gaze landing on the bold print typed neatly at the top of the paper. Spartan-087. And just below that, Spartan-058.
"There is, son. In fact, there are two."
--
Kelly couldn't help but give her friend and fellow Spartan an amused grin.
"Hey. At least we get through the line faster." Linda arched a brow and shrugged her shoulders. The act was a notoriously difficult one, especially when you take into consideration that each minimal movement made in the Mark IV MJOLNIR armor was increased at least thirty fold. Any normal person attempting to perform such a maneuver in the armor would be killed by out-of-control spasms or asphyxiation via a quickly broken neck. Kelly never liked to dwell on such things, but they were somewhat hard to forget when had seen them with her own eyes.
"You could say that."
"Oh, don't pretend you're not flattered." True, the Spartans had always been distant from the rest of the UNSC troops. That was due in part to their own desire to stay focused on any tasks ahead, as opposed to making friends within the ranks. At certain times this could very well be seen as a luxury. Such as now, when it came time to receiving their food from the crowded Life After Death mess hall. They were avoided at all costs by the recruits, who could tell immediately who they were by their height alone. Their olive-green armor suits made their status a dead give-away, even without their helmets, which they had set down at their desire table earlier. Their simply stepping into the cafeteria line had been enough to persuade several hungry soldiers to go in search of finding lunch elsewhere.
Kelly picked out her meal and moved forward. Linda followed suit. Her shoulder-length red hair, normally pulled back into a tight ponytail to keep the tendrils from blowing into her face, was let down. Her green eyes contrasted sharply with her red hair and pale skin, giving her a striking appearance. Kelly imagined that if Linda had not been a Spartan, she would have received beyond her share of dating offers from the male recruits. Not that Linda would have said yes to any of them. Even among the notoriously quiet Spartans, Linda was nearly mute. As a crack-shot sniper, she worked independently and alone while the rest of the Spartans worked in teams whenever possible.
Kelly led them back to their chosen table, separate from the rest of the mess hall. The two seated themselves and began to eat. Each of them sat in silence. Kelly knew little of their mission objective, other then it was supposed to be just the usual: put down a group of rebel Covenant Loyalists on some distant planet. She couldn't believe she was beginning to miss the old days, when her and the rest of Blue Team (including John, before his disappearance) fought the Covenant both in space and on the ground. Unlike most everyone else, Kelly couldn't find it so easy to simply write off her old command leader as dead, and she knew that Linda felt the same. Due to the age-old Spartan tradition, he had been listed as MIA for the past eleven years, although in the books written since the fall of the Covenant described him and the other so-called missing Spartans as dead. Kelly just hoped that one day she would find out what really did happen to John, and whether he was really dead or not.
Kelly blinked her eyes and refocused her attention on her meal. Mental speculation was a fine exercise. But if John were here now, he'd warn her to keep her attention on what was at hand: namely, the upcoming mission to Sore. She set down her fork to rest on her empty plate and gave Linda a coy smile, noting her untouched bagel.
"You gunna eat that?"